


Dizzy About You

by sergeant_smudge



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dancing, Fluff, Height Differences, Kissing, M/M, Slow Dancing, Steve Can't Tie A Tie, Suits, losers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_smudge/pseuds/sergeant_smudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which two old men get all dressed up and slow-dance in a hotel room</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dizzy About You

**Author's Note:**

> "how much do I love you  
> i'll tell you no lie 
> 
> how deep is the ocean  
> how high is the sky"

“Looking sharp, Rogers,” Bucky says, and Steve can _hear_ the playfully mocking smile in his tone. He sighs and drops his hands in exasperation, allowing the twisted silk of the bowtie to fall flat against his chest.

Bucky pushes off the doorjamb, waltzing lankily across the room to Steve and expertly knotting the tie under his collar. The surface of his metal hand brushes Steve’s throat as it works in tandem with his flesh one. Steve smiles fondly; scanning the sleek black suit Bucky has been pressed into.

Everything about him looks to have been smoothed over by an expert hand; all rough edges polished and shined. The collar of his shirt is starched sharply over the straight crease of his tie, the lines of his suit crisp and fitting. Steve is sure the leather of his shoes could be used to reflect light into outer space.

Bucky’s tight look of concentration fades, and he spins them both back towards the mirror. “There,” he murmurs, metal arm resting around Steve’s waist. “No one will ever know you still don’t know how to tie a tie.” They both laugh, Steve pushing Bucky off of him.

“We’re quite a pair, huh? Look at this getup,” Steve mutters, tugging at his suit jacket. Bucky makes a scolding sound, smoothing the wool down again.

“You’ll wrinkle it, Steve,” he clucks, spinning the American flag pin on his lapel right side up, and smoothing his hands up the jacket. “You never did know how to sit still in a suit.”

Steve snorts, but decisively chooses not to respond. “Who did your hair?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. Bucky swats away a reaching hand.

“Careful!” he snaps, slapping at Steve’s fingers. He turns to the mirror to assess the damage, dodging the repeated attempts to muss him. “We look with our eyes, not our hands, Steven,” Bucky reprimands in a false voice, holding both of Steve’s hands closed. He snorts at Bucky’s imitation, grinning wildly.

Bucky stares back at him, _up_ at him, he reminds himself pleasantly. Somehow the thought doesn’t carry the sting it used to. He slides his metal fingers over Steve’s lapel, resting his palm on the broad shoulder. He raises their still-linked hands, touching the toes of their Oxfords together.

“Try’na get me to lead, Barnes? You’re dumber than I thought,” Steve whispers through the curve of his lips, heart thudding stupidly in his ears.

“Can’t help it, I’m just old fashioned that way,” Bucky murmurs in response, grinning as he presses his face into Steve’s chest.

Steve pulls him gently back and forth, all the while humming something tuneless under his breath. He turns his head, resting his ear against Steve’s collarbone, the soft vibrations of the song warming his temple. “I’m dizzy about you, Rogers,” Bucky sighs contentedly.

“You’re making me blush, you sap,” Steve replies, biting at his cheeks to quell the smile overtaking his face.

 

They both jump, breaking apart in surprise at Tony Stark’s inherently sarcastic knock on the doorframe. “If the two _lovers_ are quite done _fornicating_ ,” he enunciates, a glint in his eye, “Captain America and the Winter Soldier are expected in the lobby in five minutes. But don’t let me interrupt you,” he says mockingly, pushing off the doorjamb.

Steve’s face runs scarlet, his ears following suit with a particularly complimentary shade of crimson. Bucky’s instinctual sense of dread melts along with his posture, and gives away to laughter.

He gives a quick glance to Steve, who’s flushing into a dangerous palette of reds. Considering his options, Bucky screws his face up into one of anger, and begins a screaming rant in Russian.

Fear flashes across Stark’s face as he flees the room, laughing all the way. Steve catches the word for “bastard,” followed immediately by the one for “cabbage,” and decides to keep Bucky from having too much fun with the man paying for their incredibly expensive hotel rooms.

He slides up behind Bucky, encircling Bucky’s waist with his arms. Almost as if he’s expecting it, he turns and meets Steve’s kiss before Steve has had a chance to lean down. Laughing at Stark’s yelled, _“Two minutes!”_ followed by the door slamming, Steve pulls away, looking at them both in the mirror again.

Could anyone guess they were best friends seventy years ago? It’s only been a lifetime or two, but Steve feels as though he’s lived a thousand.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Bucky says quietly, very much thinking the same thing as Steve.

“Alright,” Steve says plainly, pulling away from Bucky. He takes a half step away, then, seeing Bucky primping his hair in the mirror again, rushes back.

Steve places both of his hands on the sides of Bucky’s head, tousling his precisely styled locks before practically skipping from the room, carefully evading the rageful hands.

He collects himself in the hallway outside their room, training his grin down. Steve opens the door a crack, listening for Bucky’s aggravated yells.

 _Ah,_ he thinks, satisfied. That’s the second time he’s heard that word tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i promised angst but fluff is all i can process atm


End file.
